


At least the office parties are sick

by Legs (InsanityRule)



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Crime Lab AU, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 19:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7857346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsanityRule/pseuds/Legs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crime lab AU. Will clean this up later.</p><p>“Tara why is it always the sewer?”</p><p>“What?” She sits back with an evidence bag and hands it over for Carla to log it into their system. “Oh, bodies? You’d think people would notice the whole, they keep getting found part right? Maybe no one watches the news.”</p><p>“Not cool enough to be on the internet,” Carla mutters, snapping a couple photos of the scene. “This the pipe?”</p><p>Tara looks up again to the area Carla’s pointing to and nods. “Please don’t crawl down in there.”</p><p>“I’m not doing that again,” Carla assures Tara. She does however, lean very far over the small guard wall, and like clockwork a hand pulls at the strap of her camera bag, holding her in place while she snaps a couple more photos. “Thanks boss.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	At least the office parties are sick

**Author's Note:**

> There are some () that I need to fill in but wanted to share this now.

Same shit, new day.

Carla groans as she grabs out her kit from the truck and follows Tara as she walks over to their current victim, “Jane Doe number, something. It's on the file. Youngish-”

“Did you even write down the description of who we’re looking at?”

“Female, something something,” she’s squinting at her hand, “hair. Yes I wrote it down  _ mom. _ ”

“Gavin said to be thorough,” she sing-songs as she bends over a corpse. Charming as always. “Do you have my scissors?”

“Uh,” Carla digs through her pockets, and the pocket on the outside of the kit, and shrugs, “nope?”

“ _ Carla, _ ” Tara stands, hands on her hips and bright colored gloves making that fart noise when she makes her hands into fists; that always makes Carla laugh, and it definitely ruins the scolding look she’s getting.

“I’m not your  _ assistant _ , we’re at the same level.” Even if Gavin  _ does  _ trust Tara with more of the important matters, they’re paid the same, so they are the same. End of discussion.

“But we assist  _ each other _ , and we don’t have scissors.”

Carla is about ready to shove her pen up Tara’s nose when Gavin, their ‘fearless’ leader, joins the corpse party. “What are we looking at?”

“A corpse,” Carla comments. She blows her bangs away from her face, and they fall into the same spot  _ just  _ over her eye. “We don't have scissors.”

“Here, try not to lose them if at all possible,” he hands them to Tara, who gets straight to work. Carla does more important things, like stand around and hum while their boss oversees the scene and talks to the police.

“Tara why is it always the sewer?”

“What?” She sits back with an evidence bag and hands it over for Carla to log it into their system. “Oh, bodies? You’d think people would notice the whole, they keep getting found part right? Maybe no one watches the news.”

“Not cool enough to be on the internet,” Carla mutters, snapping a couple photos of the scene. “This the pipe?”

Tara looks up again to the area Carla’s pointing to and nods. “Please don’t crawl down in there.”

“I’m not doing that  _ again _ ,” Carla assures Tara. She does however, lean very far over the small guard wall, and like clockwork a hand pulls at the strap of her camera bag, holding her in place while she snaps a couple more photos. “Thanks boss.”

“It would be poor form to let one of my employees fall into a pipe while I’m  _ at the scene _ . Please tell me this isn’t a regular occurrence.”

“Tell the news to run a story about how we always find sewer dumps and it won’t be.” Carla straightens and hands off her camera and bag. “Speaking of,” she jerks her thumb over her shoulder and walks over towards the public restrooms at this somewhat shitty park.

She walks over to the bathroom and makes a left, then turns back around when she sees the urinal.

-

Gavin sighs, he is not going to make it through the day without having at least a minor heart attack. “Carla, that’s the men’s room.”

Tara sighs, “again?”

Carla flips them both off as she walks towards the women’s restroom.

=

Dinesh moans, “I am so fucking late.”

“Excuse you,  _ we’re  _ so fucking late.” Gilfoyle monotones back as he pulls into a parking spot. “Thought the damn traffic would never let up. And it’s only a problem if one of us is late.”

“Says you. Your boss won’t rip you a new asshole for this kind of shit.”

“Says you,” Gilfoyle volleys back, but they both know Gilfoyle’s boss is far more lax than the state attorney’s office. He shoulders his bag as Dinesh does the same and the two start up the steps to the precinct. “Based on the size of your notebook I’m going to guess you finally cracked open that Law for Dummies book I got you and took some notes, so you’re going to waste both of our time, just so you can be ‘thorough’.”

“Ha fucking ha, I’m doing my fucking job, asshole!” Dinesh shows his ID at the counter after Gilfoyle does the same. “And I’d appreciate it if you were professional this time.”

“I’m always a professional,” Gilfoyle turns the corner and grabs the strap to Dinesh’s bag when he starts going the wrong way.

“Jesus that’s gotta be the worst lie I’ve ever heard. I can’t believe you have a decent win record.” Dinesh straightens his tie. “Say, you and Tara still available for game night?”

“Depends on whether or not you bury us in this case, so if you want to play Dead of Winter with us you’ve got to let me win so I can get off early on Friday.”

“Fat fucking chance,” Dinesh mutters as he opens the door to the interrogation room and Gilfoyle slips in ahead of him.

“Monica Hall,” Gilfoyle offers his hand, “Bertram Gilfoyle, my nemesis here is Dinesh Chugtai. I am your representative and I’m going to recommend you don’t answer any of his questions without confirming with me.”

“Shouldn’t you come in  _ before  _ he comes in to ask questions?” She shakes Gilfoyle’s hand and folds her fingers before placing her hands in her lap.

“I’m his ride.” Gilfoyle explains. Dinesh nods.

“So, my lawyer and the state’s lawyer are in a carpool together?”

“We’re trying to be eco-conscious Ms. Hall,” Dinesh replies, looking very tired, as if this is an everyday occurrence for the pair of lawyers.

“‘Best friends’ when we’re not working, otherwise mortal enemies. You know how it is.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t know how that feels at all.”

“How about this,” Gilfoyle interrupts before things can get derailed further. “Mr. Chugtai, go get Ms. Hall and myself some coffee, and when you’re back you can agree to my claim that you have no case and only circumstantial evidence, et cetera.”

“Fine,” he turns to Monica and his face goes neutral, which is a step up from angry snark, “would you like any cream or sugar?”

“Black is fine, thank you.”

Gilfoyle stares at the door until it closes and then turns to Monica. “Alright, Ms. Hall-”

“Monica is fine.”

“Alright,  _ Monica, _ ” he digs a pad of paper and a folder out of his bag. “We’re going to go over the broad strokes before he gets back, and any little details we’ll cover along the way. Now,” he flips open the folder, “a Mr. Gregory, your boss, was found dead in his apartment. Based on autopsy and the examination of the scene, your prints are there-”

“He’s my boss and sometimes he would invite his higher ups over for dinner.”

Gilfoyle gives her a pointed stare. “How about you let me go over what I know, and if it’s wrong or if I forgot anything, you add it at the end when I’m done talking.”

“Oh-kay.” Monica rolls her eyes.

“Now, your prints are at the scene, and on the award used to kill him, a statue in recognition of the multiple green practices at Raviga. Now you may go.”

“Okay, well, as I said, he’s my  _ boss  _ and he invites- invited people over. And  _ I  _ was the one that accepted that award for him.”

“Good, and there’s footage of this?”

“Photos mostly, it’s a small event.” Monica reaches for the folder and Gilfoyle nudges it in front of her. She grimaces when she gets to the crime scene photos. “I didn’t kill him.”

“The state is going to claim you did it in order to get his job, based on this,” he pulls out a contract, “layman’s terms, this contract indicates you’re to take over in the untimely death or retirement of one Peter Gregory.”

“I already had a good job.” Monica shakes her head. “And he wanted that set up so the company didn’t sit idle with no replacement. I’m only an interim president. If the board decides they’ve found someone better, then I go back to VP status.”

“When that chode gets back in here with the coffee he’s going to work that angle, because if you’re correct and you have good reason to be in his apartment and all that, then their case is already sinking fast. Just sit back, tell him what I said  _ exactly _ , and you’re out of here.”

-

“I have a problem, might be minor if you can get some things figured out.” Gilfoyle pushes a pad of paper over to Gavin and sits back. “Dinesh tells me you found only Gregory and Hall’s fingerprints at the scene.”

“Carla, can you get me Richard’s file on this?” He scans the list. “Is this your only problem or are you planning on surprising us with more later?”

“If you find me another set of prints then I’m golden.”

“You do realize this is a state-funded crime lab, and our obligation-”

“Is the truth. Don’t feed me any bullshit.” Gavin and Gilfoyle glare at each other while Carla tacks away on her laptop, rolling her eyes briefly at the pissing contest. “I say she’s innocent.”

“Because it’s your  _ job,  _ Bertram. Dinesh would be in here spouting the same story if  _ he  _ was the one losing.”

Carla makes a startled noise. “Monica Hall?”

“You know her?”

“Briefly and in a spectacular fizzle we lost contact. Small world.”

“Well, I suppose it never hurts to be thorough,” Gavin murmurs and Carla groans. “Carla, you’re  _ certain  _ that you didn’t find any other prints? And all surfaces were swabbed?”

Not a chance in hell. “Absolutely.”

“Well, then a second check should be quick and easy for you and Tara.”

When no one is looking Carla sticks out her tongue. Gavin rubs a hand over his eyes, but doesn’t comment.

=

“I just don’t see why Gilfoyle can’t get some private lab to do his grunt work.” Carla hands over a folder for the Hall case to Tara and shoves her hands in her pockets.

“We both know it’s because he thinks I can make people work faster.”

“You  _ do  _ make people work faster. Why do you think Gavin saddled you with me?” She spits out a wad of gum into a trash can as they walk by. “And I’ll be done when you’re done, which at this rate is never.  _ Bertram  _ wants a second look done on the scene and Gavin’s never been known to cut corners, so we’re going back out.”

“Oh shoot, I was finally getting caught up on my paperwork.” She flips open the folder and looks at the transcript of Monica’s questioning, including a photo. “Oh, she’s pretty.”

“Dated a couple times,” Carla admits and Tara squeals which makes Carla grimace. “Forget I said anything.”

“No, this is so exciting! Do you think you’d go out again? Catch up over coffee?”

“Okay, one, she’s the main suspect in a murder we’re investigating, and two, no way in hell because that fizzled out so fast I’m still going to the chiro for whiplash.”

“People change. And you still think she’s pretty.”

“Yeah no shit captain obvious, who wouldn’t?” She takes back the folder and briefly looks at the photo before shutting it and holding the folder under one arm. “I’m not going to sit around and fail some 180 bechdel test with you over my sorry excuse for a love life. Let’s just get back to the apartment and get this re-swab over with.”

“A 180 bechdel test?”

“You know, women that can’t talk about anything but the men around them, but since Monica’s a girl,” Carla shrugs. “Did you ever get the results back from that microbe thing you were doing?”

“Oh, actually Nelson,” she looks to her right as Nelson falls into step with them. “I was just about to talk about you and our microbe testing.”

“Yeah, that’s cool,” he’s wearing his lab coat, goggles on his forehead, drinking from a beaker (his water cup, not from the lab, at least Carla hopes), and wearing gloves. “That test really fucked things up for me though, and I’m already backlogged, but the lab has to be sterilized before I can get any work done.”

“Pretty sure that’s your fault.” Carla says and points to his hands. “Shouldn’t you be wearing those  _ in  _ the lab?”

“I  _ know  _ what kind of shit is in the lab. Aspergillus, it got out and really messed up this one damp corner, but out here,” he gestures with his hand holding the beaker, sloshing some water onto the floor, “I don’t  _ know  _ what the hell you guys are doing, but there is some  _ nasty stuff  _ in the halls. These are for my protection until we finish sterilizing the rest of the building.”

“So is this you telling us  _ we  _ should be wearing that shit?”

“Well,  _ my  _ lab isn’t paying for your PPE, we're already close on the budget this quarter, but I’m not going to say you  _ shouldn’t  _ wash your hands more.”

“Yeah but, oh fuck not again.” Gavin starts barreling towards them, and Carla braces for impact, but apparently Nelson is a pervervial lightning rod when it comes to distracting Gavin from asking about their second sweep just by virtue of being kind of a germaphobe, “Nelson, for  _ fuck’s  _ sake we have an  _ audit  _ in two days!”

“Well this place is  _ disgusting _ , and I don't want to get some crazy foreign disease, so I figured this would work good since it's what it's supposed to do.”

“Tara, let’s split,” Carla grabs her arm and the two scurry off as Gavin starts getting into the heart of a ‘proper places for labwear’ discussion with the  _ only  _ full time microbiologist on staff. “Saved by the fucking bell on that one.”

“Hopefully the cleaning will be done soon.”

“Yeah, tiny’s not so good with his little 'pets’ roaming the halls unsupervised.”

Or people, or anyone outside of his own “microbiome” as he puts it, and as a result he's a bit of a hermit. Carla's been in his apartment  _ once  _ when she got saddled with carpooling him into work because he “has a nervous disposition” and “cars are an abomination to nature”. He just can't fucking drive. That's it. She successfully got taken  _ off  _ the Nelson approved to drive list really damn fast when she got a bit aggressive on the highway, and the job usually goes to Jared in Records.

“This sweep should be fast,” Tara explains. “We have the prints for the detectives and officers that entered the apartment requested-”

“Gotta love curly’s forethought on shit like that.”

“And we just need to be  _ extra sure  _ we get every surface, and we won't have to make a third sweep.”

“God forbid, fuck I'm already bored.”

“We're not even to the car.”

This is going to be a  _ long  _ day.

-

“Okay Richie, work your damn magic on these. And for the love of fuck can you bring in some baked goods or something when it turns out this was a waste of time?”

“Jared might,” he takes the files and sets them aside. “You're pretty low on my list right now. There's a fuck ton of backlog for old cases I'm still burning through. I should request a second computer.”

Carla crosses her arms. “Or a third. You can't work some sort of magic with this thing?”

“I'm like,  _ basically _ an overqualified IT guy. I'd bring in my own setup if they would give me approval.”

“Surplus store, maybe, or just do it anyway,” Carla huffs and slumps into a chair. “Tara’s playing catch-up on her paperwork, tiny’s having a meltdown over the germs in the cafeteria-”

“Yeah he's probably never eating here again. He showed me the results for the kitchen.” Richard's quiet for a moment before he drags out his lunch box from under his desk. “He kind of has a point.”

“So no more coffee for you?”

“Jared's been on a tea kick, which means  _ I'm  _ on a tea kick, I guess. So I'm not missing much from avoiding all the shit on the floors.”

Except most of his caffeine intake, probably a good change. “Yeah. He didn't swab any floors, Tara told me  _ all _ about their experiment.”

“Fuck, well, glad Jared made some sandwiches I guess.” He takes a bite of his food and offers an organic, Jared friendly chip thing. She declines. No hippie, allergy friendly food for her, thanks. She'll keep shoveling in greasy food and sesame sticks until she croaks. “They taste okay.”

“They taste like  _ nature _ , and I'm not having it.”

“More for me, I guess.” He rests his elbow on the desk and taps his screen, “you  _ do  _ know this is going to take pretty much all day, right?”

“The longer I'm here the longer I'm hidden from Belson's accusing gaze because I'm “not getting work done” or however else he wants to describe my work ethic.” Still, she flips through the case file so she can say she was boning up on the particulars of the case. She gets to Monica, and her brief interview, and sighs. “I know the person accused.”

“I know. Tara was telling Nelson,  _ loudly _ , during break. I uh, overheard. A lot of people did, if you assume everyone within a half block radius was paying any attention.”

“Joy,” she sighs faux-dramatically and rests her work boots on a nearby chair. “You're lucky you're a fucking recluse,  _ and  _ not single. Gossip train just rolls right past you.”

“ _ I'm  _ a recluse. Jared over-shares, sometimes. I think he gets lonely in the records room.”

“Just sneak down there for a work fuck.” Richard chokes and starts coughing up dumb organic chips. Carla pats his back. “ _ That'll  _ cheer him up.”

=

It takes two days for Richard to come back with  _ anything _ , and all he gets them is an ittybitty partial that they can do fuck all with, so Carla successfully chocks the whole thing up to a  _ complete  _ waste of time.

“It wasn't a  _ waste, _ there is a partial.”

“Belson don't patronize me. Just tell me you're giving me the crap jobs because I fell in that sewer drain and you're trying to teach me a lesson, and I'll forgive you.”

“The partial  _ doesn't  _ match Monica or Peter's prints, Carla.  _ Or  _ any of the officers or detectives.”

“So we forgot to print the plumber.”

“It's a  _ dog  _ print. If you check the floor of the apartment I'm sure you would find more.”

Carla blinks a few times and sighs as she lies her head down on Gavin's desk. “That sounds like a fat crock of  _ nothing _ , Belson.”

“ _ Where  _ is his dog, Carla?”

She pops back up. “What?”

“ _ Where  _ is his dog?”

She sits back, crosses one leg up over the other, and taps her pen on her boot. “Animal control? Shelter? No clue. wasn't really any  _ evidence  _ he had a dog unless they used the same bowls.”

“Let's get the detectives responsible notified. It might not amount to anything, but they'll want to follow the lead.”

-

Monica sighs and nods, “Lando Pugrissian. Peter's…  _ particular _ about a lot of things, everything, really, and that includes his dog. All of the dog's things were in this rolling suitcase since Lando was  _ always  _ at the office with Peter. He's a happy little fat pug, and most people in the building know about him. There's a volunteer walk schedule in the break room and he came home with me on rare weekends when Peter had to travel for work.”

“Well isn't there anything in his apartment. Do you know anything about that?” Dinesh glares at Gilfoyle when he starts to open his fucking mouth to protest questions just because he  _ can _ . Fucker. “No one mentioned the dog during the investigation, and we're just following up on a lead.”

“No one asked I guess, and there were  _ other  _ things in everyone's minds.” Okay, she has a point, but she doesn't have to  _ glare  _ so much. “Maybe Lando wasn't there.” She shrugs. “If the dog wasn't around there's no reason for his stuff to be there.”

“Where's the dog now?”

“Well, if he's not at the office or Peter's sister, he might be at Evan’s place. He's the other person at my level at Raviga, and the only other person at the office Peter trusted us to take care of Lando if he was busy.”

-

“I didn't really expect you to bring me a  _ paw print  _ when I asked for more prints, but the state's attorney’s office can't decide if it's relevant or not.”

“It might  _ not  _ be, you know.” Gavin rubs his forehead. “Peter's  _ dog  _ is not going to be a reliable witness in the trial.”

“ _ If  _ this case even goes to trial it won't be my client on the stand.”

“Well at least one of us is confident, Belson,” Carla slumps into a nearby chair and lets her back settle. “Any other crazy hunts you want us going on Gilfoyle?”

“I have  _ bigger _ problems today,” Belson interjects, “and the detectives need to find the dog before we can do anything more for them.”

“Sounds like fun, what's today exactly?”

“The  _ audit _ , Carla,” she sits up and stares, her mouth is hanging open a bit, “I trust your paperwork is all in order?”

“Uh, yep. Definitely.”

He sighs, “and the likelihood you're talking out of your ass right now?”

“Like, 80%.”

-

Or, twenty percent, which is a welcome change, because apparently Tara filled most of  _ both  _ of their paperwork out because she was expecting this, or something. Either way, Carla's done with her files and upkeep procedures with plenty of time to spare, which means she settles in for a desk nap until the auditor shows up.

Before she can even put her head down Tara pokes her head into their shared office and knocks on the frame, “are you busy right now?”

“I guess  _ not _ , unless you're going to let me claim a nap is considered busy.”

“Okay, good, Gavin's really busy today, but he wanted me to ask you if you could do him a  _ huge  _ favor.”

This can't be good. Carla stands and stretches out her back. “What's the crisis?”

“So you know about the audit today,” she pauses.

“Oh, yep. All ready to go.”

“Okay, so you know how you're  _ great  _ with people and everything-”

“That is  _ so  _ far from the truth.”

“I know. I think that was his point. See, he needs someone to keep Russ busy and make sure he's ready.”

“And this is you trying to  _ sell me  _ this project? Hard pass.”

“Carla Russ  _ listens  _ to you.” Carla rolls her eyes. “Don't give me that look, he listens to you more than he does other people.”

She groans, and draws out a, “ _ fine _ .” Tara smiles. “Belson owes me fucking  _ big  _ if I pull this off, okay?”

She packs up a few things in her office to tidy it up before going, something she normally  _ hates  _ to do but less time with Russ is time well spent. His office is tucked away in a back corner, and most people don't really see or interact with him on a daily basis. Audio isn't commonly in need of any cleaning up with the new fancy microphones in use, and most of his days are probably spent looking at Reddit or porn and sleeping in his office. Life goals right there, since he's doing this shit for  _ kicks _ . Sometimes, most times, Carla kind of resents his stupid rich bitch attitude, just because he “revolutionized” audio cleanup procedures in college.

Today they're starting off strong, because he  _ isn't  _ jacking off at his desk. “Hanneman, got a minute?”

“Carla!” He grins, wide crocodile mouth and all, and points to her. She steps back a fraction. “ _ Just  _ the person I wanted to see. You're one of the good ones at this shitshow. Why haven't we gone out yet?”

That's not ominous or anything. “Still a lesbian Russ.”

“Right, right,” he rubs his chin. Plotting. “What about double dates? Dinner. Clubs. Dancing. We'll tear this shit  _ up _ ! Whattaya say?”

Some things never change. “Tell you what, you manage to find two women willing to spend an entire evening in your proximity and I'll do it. But my date’s gotta be interested in women. No paying people either.”

“Sold!” What the hell did she just agree to? “You know Carla, you're one of my favorites.”

“Oh no don't say that,” she grimaces.

“As my friend,” fuck it's getting  _ worse,  _ “I have a couple favors to ask you. First, are you free this Friday?”

“Is this for the double date or are you asking me to watch your kid again?”

“The kid, but don't say no yet. I just got this sick setup,  _ twice  _ the number of channels we had before. Plus, some grateful client or whatever left me a bunch of snack shit after a case,” as if  _ that  _ could be true, “but it's all this savory Asian crap, sesame everywhere, and I hate that fucking shit, but I remember you  _ love  _ that kind of stuff-”

“You remember  _ that  _ but not the part where I'm a lesbian.”

“It's all yours! What do you say, huh? We got a deal?”

She's about 90% certain he's full of shit and personally bought sesame snacks in order to bribe Carla into agreeing to watch his kid, but somehow he's managed to  _ not  _ turn Aspen into a mini version of himself, and Carla can think of sadder ways to spend her Friday night. And they  _ don't  _ come with sesame and giant TVs with hundreds of channels.

“Sure, fine. The kid’s cool for a seven year old.”

“Score, you are the  _ best _ .”

“What's the other favor?” She hazards, and a part of her thinks it's going to be the worse one of the two.

“You know we got that auditor fucking around today right?”

“Doing his job. Yep.”

“Well, I  _ may  _ have had a virus on my computer-”

“Russ man you gotta start watching porn on your iPad instead.”

“Billion dollar idea right there. But in the meantime I have to do a full wipe,” he motions over his monitor in a wiping motion, “and I need to reinstall a bunch of shit, so I need you, my friend,”  _ oh fuck _ , “to go to records and complete these request forms.”

“Why can't  _ you  _ do that?”

“Uh, obviously the auditor is going to know something's fucked if my computer doesn't have  _ anything _ installed.”

“Just  _ tell  _ them you had to do a full reinstall.”

“Belson came in here bellowing about a paperwork backlog or some shit, whatever the fuck  _ that  _ means am I right?”

“I means you're not turning in your paperwork. How are you not fired already?”

“So I'll do that shit, you get my requests, and audio is  _ golden _ .”

Carla groans and reaches out a hand for the request forms. “Are these all for cases or… Russ these are all  _ at least  _ three months old.”

“Yeah, it's not a big deal they're probably all old cases. People usually come in and bitch if they  _ really  _ need this shit.”

“I'm pretty sure  _ I  _ made this request,” she holds out a piece of paper, “Jesus Russ it takes like  _ ten minutes _ to get these from records.”

“So you'll be done in no time!” He holds out a hand, a high five request, and Carla slumps close enough to lazily swipe her hand over Russ’ palm.

_ Sesame better be fucking  _ **_worth it_ ** _ self. _

=

Records is a quiet, climate controlled corner of the basement  _ just  _ far enough removed from the preservative and body smell to be an alright space, but also  _ just  _ out of everyone's way that no one  _ really  _ comes down here during the day, unless they really need something.

Or in this case Richard, who's straightening out his shirt a little, and blushing like a guilty fucker as he speedwalks away from records. “Damn Curly, didn't think you'd actually  _ listen  _ to me or anything.”

“I needed something.”

“What did you get?” He pats down his pockets but comes up empty. “Richard Middle Name Hendricks. I am so  _ proud _ of you right now.”

“Can I please just go be mortified at my desk?”

“ _ Damn  _ Richard, I'm not gonna judge if you want to make out during work hours.”

“I  _ really  _ just want to go upstairs. And maybe crawl under my desk,” he pulls the hood of his sweater up over his head, “please don't tell Tara. She'll tell  _ everyone. _ ”

“Wouldn't dream of it Richie,” although she  _ is  _ going to hold this one over his head for a couple weeks.

“Why are you even down here anyway?”

“Russ duty.” She holds up the request forms. “Belson's gonna owe me  _ big _ for doing this. Might ask for some PTO or something.”

“Okay, fine,” Richard's chewing on the inside of his cheek, “um… Jared's kinda… well he gets tired af-” Richard shakes his head. “He might be a little out of it.”

_ Oh. My. God.  _ “I am so proud of you.”

“I'm  _ going _ , bye.” He waves and about jogs down the hall.

“Kids,” she shakes her head as she walks the rest of the way to Records. The little counter is unoccupied, a rare occurrence unless Jared snuck away to go to the bathroom. But Carla only has to wait around for a minute before Jared ambles, woah wait,  _ ambles _ ? His usual long leggeg scurry is slowed to a rolling gait, and he smiles sleepily at Carla after he steps into place at his counter. “Good Morning.”

“Been  _ busy  _ down here, huh?” The innuendo must go over his head, because he nods, “Richard needed something for the audit too?”

“Yes?” Jared loses his calm for a bit, but Carla's not planning on confronting their little workday romp. “He…”

“Spare me the details J,” she has plenty of her own (Russ') shit to deal with right now, “how’re you holding up down here? Keeping busy?”

“I've been doing a  _ complete  _ overhaul on our current organizational system. The other day I found a record from  _ fifty  _ years ago.” He giggles, “it should have already been digitized.”

“Right, okay, tell you what. I'd  _ love  _ to hear about any of the little bits of gossip you got, but I'm on a strict timeline today.” Jared’s expression droops a little into a kicked puppy face but he nods. He's so precious she can't handle this dork, “but I'm watching Hanneman’s spawn Friday, and once he's asleep you and Richie could come over for a movie night.”

“I'll have to make sure Richard hasn't made any plans with his friends.”

“If he has you're more than welcome to join me without him.”

“Alright, by then I might've found  _ more  _ old records misfiled in the back.”

“Can't wait,” she hands over her requests, “can you put a rush on these? Russ left them in a bottom drawer or a closet or wherever he hides shit he doesn't want to do, and I'm playing catch-up for him in exchange for his friendship or whatever, so it's a shitty compensation from Russ but if I get this done Belson's going to  _ worship  _ the ground I walk on.”

-

“Oh  _ Belson _ ,” Carla practically fucking  _ preens  _ as she walks into Gavin's office and slides into one of his armchairs, “you're looking at the one, the  _ only  _ Carla Walton, who singlehandedly finished all of Russ's paper-why’s tiny sleeping on your couch.”

Gavin, she's realizing, is making that face that says he  _ did not  _ want her barging in here and he's probably holding his breath in an attempt to keep calm right now.

“Is this the part where you ask me for silence because of my undying loyalty to you and your private life? Because we're at  _ work _ , Belson.  _ I've sat on that couch. _ ”

“Nothing's happened on the couch.” She doesn't want to think about other surfaces either. “His portion of the audit finished this morning.”

“Uh huh. So that doesn't explain  _ any  _ of this. I hope you realize that. How the hell is he still asleep anyway? I'm definitely  _ not  _ whispering.”

“He's a sound sleeper.”

“ _ Why do you  _ **_know_ ** _ that _ ?”

“Carla, please,” he massages his temples, “if not for my sake, for Nelson's.”

“Okay, fine,” she side-eyes Nelson as he rolls so he's facing the back of the couch. “So you're an approved microbiome huh?”

“ _ Carla _ .”

“Just a joke,” she has so much dirt on people now. Carla's well on her way to a  _ week  _ of paid vacation. “So, you and the pipsqueak?”

“I'd rather keep the details of my private life  _ private _ , if that's alright with you.”

“Yeah alright Belson I'll honor your wish for privacy.” She crosses her legs. “So, does HR know?”

“They were notified in a timely manner, thank you.” If he didn't have a headache before he's probably going to get one from this added stress. He's rubbing his forehead an awful lot.

“How the fuck did you manage to get him  _ that _ comfortable?”

Gavin's quiet, but she's sure he understands. The same Nelson that wore his PPE outside the lab to stay germ free would _not_ be cool with face planting into a publicly used couch. But for the most part it's Gavin's couch, and it's a fairly new leather couch, which means it's probably easier to clean. And if this is a _thing_ , which it looks like it is, then maybe Gavin's germs _are_ on the approved list. He's a tidy guy, and about as reluctant to let people into his home as Nelson, so cross contamination is unlikely.

They sound like a fucking petri dish.

“Does he make you shower before entering or are you past that point?”

“I'm going to assume you mean entering his apartment,” sure he could do that, “and again, I'm going to cite this being  _ personal _ and not something I need to share with you. If he wants to tell you about us that's his choice.”

Fat chance  _ that's  _ ever going to happen. “So, audits all done?”

He looks thankful for the change of topic, “yes, and good riddance until  _ next  _ year. I'm surprised we only got two comments.”

“Yeah, well, Russ had some _really_ _old_ transfer requests unfinished in his desk _and_ had to wipe his computer because of a virus, but they couldn't find his porn collection at least. You're welcome.”

Gavin sets down his pen and covers his face. “Why did I take this job again? Between Russ, and audits, and that  _ damn budget  _ no one seems to follow even though it's  _ vital  _ to keeping things running, I'm going to age a other ten years this month.”

“Good thing tiny likes 'em older.” Gavin  _ glares _ , and Carla smiles. “So, since I was such a  _ big  _ help today, can I get some paid time off?”

-

She gets  _ one  _ day, what a ripoff, but it's for future use, can be any day of the week, and doesn't need approval.  _ And  _ she took all the leftover sesame snacks from Russ' place after she got done watching the kid.

But work goes on, and she can't get out of going to the scene of  _ another  _ sewer drain, but this time Tara is stuck at a different cite with an intern, so Belson is Carla's partner today.

One of them is less thrilled than the other.

“So I saw Nelson get in your car Friday afternoon. Have a fun weekend?”

Gavin sighs, long-suffering and pained, “I had a  _ private  _ weekend at my cabin.”

“Spare me the juicy details.” She grabs her kit from the car and starts scanning the scene for her first evidence. “So, audit day you said, and I quote, “his portion finished this morning” when I asked why he was in your office. Care to elaborate or-?”

“Will answering this date your curiosity enough to  _ stop  _ trying to pry?”

“Probably.”

“Alright,” he snaps on a pair of gloves, “traditionally, audit day has always been a stressful affair for Nelson's department. The man he replaced was fired related to an audit citation that led to the discovery of his, let's say  _ unsatisfactory _ performance during a high profile case. We need the audits to remain credible, but he's terrified of them going the same way.”

“So his was the one that got commented?”

“Hardly. They were actually  _ thrilled  _ he took the initiative to already having the lab and building sterilized, bit he didn't sleep the night before, and with his work area still being cleaned of some stray Aspergillus he had a bit of free time.”

“So, a nap on your couch.”

“For  _ hours _ . You would be thought he was dead once he was deeply asleep.” He bags a nail file and hands the bag to Carla. “And I trust you're still being considerate of my wishes.”

“Lips are sealed. Although if you wanted to sweeten the deal I'd accept payment in the form of sesame sticks or more PTO.”

“I'm going to trust your integrity…” he pauses and sits up. “Plain or seasoned sesame sticks?”

=

About two weeks later Carla walks into her shared office and finds Gilfoyle sitting at Tara's desk, one hand loosely clasped around his briefcase handle and the other limp in his lap. Tara is nowhere to be found, but based on this scene he's not doing well with a case and Carla can either turn around and pretend she didn't see anything or let him gripe.

“So Dinesh is kicking your ass?”

Gripe it is.

“Gregory case.” Carla nods. “Dog didn't help one fucking thing, and the prints are killing me.”

“So she got the award for him. I remember making J find them for you, all official and everything.”

“Didn't matter.”

“Like hell it doesn't.” She sits and drags the briefcase closer to herself and pops it open so she can look at his case file. “I  _ know  _ Monica. She's not a killer.”

“Well, then tell me this.  _ Why  _ are the prints there?”

“Because she got the award.”

“Six  _ months  _ ago.” He flips to the stack of professional photos with Monica at a small podium. “And tell me, why didn't we find other prints.”

“Well. The cleaning service...fuck.” she huffs a breath out her nose. “You're right.”

“They  _ wouldn't  _ leave that dirty when literally  _ every  _ other surface was spotless. Cleaner agreed to testify to the fact.”

“Damn, okay.” She tosses the folder back to Gilfoyle and sits back in her chair. “So, what? She still says she's innocent?”

“Motive’s always been a shaky piece of shit. She was basically a shoe in for CEO once he was gone.”

Carla taps her fingers in a loose rhythm on her thighs. “And the dog?”

“Evan had him. Claimed Gregory requested he care for it for the weekend.”

“Fishy.”

“As fuck, but no motive.”

“Well,” Carla sits up and grabs the folder again, “I for one can't stand by and let Dinesh beat you, so we're looking at this shit together.” She flips until she finds the arrangement for Raviga. “The fuck is this thing supposed to be?”

“Annointed a temporary CEO in tje event of his passing or retirement.”

”Right,” she skims it briefly, and flips to the signature page. “And these match… hello there what?”

“Don't tease me Carla. I know you haven't found shit.”

“This was made like, three days before he died.”

“Yep, I  _ knew  _ that. And Dinesh loved that little fact. Slimy motherfucker.”

“Yeah how dare he read,” she skims again, “why not Evan?”

“No prints. No motive.”

“Well yeah, but if  _ I  _ was Evan, and I wasn't getting chosen as interum and maybe eventual full time CEO I'd be pretty pissed. But normal pissed I forgot my gloves.”

-

“So you  _ were _ in his apartment?” Dinesh asks.

“Yes, to discuss something for work.”

“I thought he liked to keep work and home separate.” Dinesh is trying to intimidate her, but he's smiling to genuinely and not like a total sleazeball. Monica straightens the bottom of her sweater.

“This was about his replacement.”

“You, if I'm not mistaken.”

“Yes,” she looks over to the jury. They all seem disinterested, and she hopes that's a good sign. “It was his call. I was grateful because he trusted me with his company.”

“That's why the timing is so odd, Ms. Hall.” She watches as Gilfoyle tenses. Maybe to object.

-

“He really dragged me around, right? That went badly?”

“For him, maybe. Remember what we discussed?” Gilfoyle  _ never _ looks worried, but he never really has an expression period.

The stand didn't scare her when Dinesh was asking the questions, but it's now or never, and she feels a bit of worry start to cloud her thoughts.

“You weren't the only VP at Raviga.”

“No, it was myself and Evan.”

“Evan (),” he nods to the stenographer. “Why wasn't he considered for President?”

Dinesh objects, they argue, and she waits.

“I'll move on.” Gilfoyle straightens his tie, a dumb signal he came up with, as if asking the question wasn't enough of a signal. “So he chose you.”

“He  _ did  _ choose me, yes. That's pretty obvious given the paperwork he left behind.”

“And are you president now?”

“No, I'm not. I'm not even employed there at this time thanks to this case. I was fired, and Evan took my temporary place as president.”

“The one Peter  _ didn't  _ want as his replacement.”

“Obj-”

“Defense rests, calm your tits.”

-

“An acquittal doesn't mean they think I'm innocent, right? Just that enough of them didn't think I'm guilty.”

“Call it what you want, you're still free to go.”

“And unemployed.”

“And that. Can't win 'em all.”

Monica sighs and brushes her hair back over her shoulders. It's too warm in the courthouse, and outside isn't much better. She wishes her creme sweater wasn't her best option this morning, but maybe it's what saved her butt. “Are they going to arrest Evan or is this case going to stay open?”

“No proof he did it, but no proof he  _ didn't  _ either.  _ And  _ he has a decent motive, so who knows. My work here is done, and I have a standing appointment for drinks to gloat over a certain prosecutor.”

Why is she not surprised.

“Monica,” she turns, and squints at the person walking towards her. “Jeez can't remember me? That bad a lay huh.”

“Carla.” She nods. “I really didn't expect-”

“Crime lab I work for was on the case. Wanted someone available for a possible expert witness.” She shrugs. “So, you won.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Now I just need to find somewhere that will hire somebody accused of killing their boss.”

“Ha,” Carla spits on the steps of the courthouse. Gross. “Yeah, well, I may have a lead. Belson says we need an admin type because our jurisdiction or whatever is expanding to fit small Podunk towns in it, if you're interested. Not  _ near  _ as glamorous, but it pays the bills.”

“You want to  _ work  _ together?”

“I'm trying out this new thing where every time I fuck with somebody I do something nice to balance things out.”

“Not to the same person I take it.”

“Hell no.” She cocks her head to one side. “Whether you do or don't try for the job, we're not dating again.”

“No,” she sighs, relieved, “no we're not.”

“Good. Enough office gossip there for a lifetime. You see tiny, fuck it you don't know what that means, never mind. You'll learn. Anyway, I got a date with a certain group of assholes at a bar.”

“That wouldn't include my lawyer would it?”

“It would indeed. He just beat Dinesh for the like, fifteenth time in a  _ row _ . And we make Dinesh buy.”

“I could go for that, actually,” she steps down the stairs a few steps.

“The hell you are.  _ You've  _ got a résumé to perfect. And besides, employees only. You know how it is.”

“Not really,” she smiles, “but maybe I'll learn.”


End file.
